One of Those Days!
by Shirley Jean
Summary: Ever have one of those days? Our Johnny is having one lately...Here is a lighter side to some rescues and some 'mishaps' that plague a certain paramedic...
1. Chapter 1

Johnny rolled into the parking lot 3 minutes late for his shift. He slammed his Rover into park, and grabbed his clean uniforms from the backseat and ran into the bay, knowing latrine duty would be in his future. Throwing his uniforms into his locker, John skidded around the corner, came to a halt and stood at attention for roll call with his fellow crew mates, trying to catch his breath. It was one of those days.

His appearance was a sight to behold. His once neatly pressed uniform shirt was un-tucked, his shirt pocket half ripped, and grass stains and mud adorned his left side shoulder and sleeve. Pieces of grass and debris mingled with his non-regulation hair, and what looked like a small bruise was beginning to form on John's cheek. A row of what could be likened to a nest of hungry baby birds with their mouths open stood in formation, heads tilted to the right, wondering what in the world happened to their crew mate. Captain Stanley was no exception.

"Um, John? An explanation would be nice." Captain Stanley asked of his youngest member.

Well ah, cap, I would rather not…" John suggested, his face pleading.

Not a suggestion John." His captain overruled.

John cleared his throat before he began the saga of his morning. The rest of the crew looked at each other, relaxed their 'attention' stance, making themselves more comfortable.

"Well, see, it's like this. See, I was on my way to work, early, actually, and I saw a citizen in distress, and um, stopped ta help. Well, it didn't really go so well, and I took a tumble down the embankment trying to change her tire and…"

" Ah, Her? I KNEW there was a chick involved! Leave it to Gage…Did you at least get her number?" Chet chimed in and began to laugh.

"I was just helping her out Kelly. That's all. No big thing. Can we drop it now?" Gage looked at the ground.

"Uh uh. No way. What's with the bruise? Did ya try to get fresh and she smacked ya? Or did she have a hulk of a boyfriend to do it?" A few of the other guys began to snicker now. Roy shook his head. Only his partner.

"Shut up, Kelly! I didn't know... He thought I was tryin' to...Ah, can we get back to roll call now? I get the latrines, right?" John growled.

"Ah man! It's true! She had a boyfriend and he decked you!" Chet could barely stand up for all his laughing.

"That's enough men. Let's get back to business. Unfortunately John, assignments were given, and you do have latrines. And Chet, if you find John's assignment that amusing, I'm sure he would appreciate extra help." Captain Stanley admonished.

"Yessir. Understood sir. Not at all amused, sir." Chet tried to answer between chuckles. John flashed an evil eye at the Phantom.

"I didn't think so. Sure you're alright, John?" John looked at his boss and nodded, not saying anything, and Hank understood the message that it wasn't anything his youngest team member wanted to continue to talk about.

Alright then, men. Dismissed." Hank Stanley disappeared into his office, and John sank back into the comforting smoothness of the squad, releasing the breath he had been holding. Most of the men disbursed. Chet started rubbing his hands together, hoping to continue to torment his pigeon, and Roy took Johnny's elbow to lead him into the locker room. Chet tried to follow, but Mike took his elbow and dragged him in the opposite direction.

"Hey, whattya doin? There's gotta be great story here! The Phantom has to know what's going on!"

John had barely enough time to get a fresh shirt on before the klaxons' blared, beckoning the squad from the station.

E*E*E*E*E

After getting their patient ready for transport, Johnny and Dennis, the ambulance attendant, loaded their frail, elderly charge carefully into the ambulance along with the medical equipment into the back of the ambulance. She clung to her treasured yellow purse, adorned with shiny silver buckles that held her favorite bright red lipstick, a metal hairbrush, her false teeth that she wore only on special occasions, her curly platinum blonde hairpiece, and a fairly large bottle of Eau de' Cologne, which unbeknownst to the ambulances' occupants, was now actively leaking, and beginning to fill the cab with its pungent aroma. Roy shut the doors, and gave the customary slaps before getting into the squad to follow the non-code R transport.

Riding in the back with the patient, John stopped taking her pulse and released the wrist of his frail, elderly patient. He gave her a gentle smile.

"How are you feeling, Mildred? Doing better now?"

"Oh, yes, much better now. I feel so silly for forgetting to take my pills. I'm usually so good about such things. You're such a nice young man." She gave him a shy smile. John began to wrinkle his nose at the smell that was beginning to take over their air space.

"It's no problem at all. You just relax and we'll make sure you get checked out thoroughly just to be on the safe side. Are you comfortable Mildred?"

Oh, fine, fine. Don't you worry about lil' ol' me." Mildred hugged her purse tightly as she lay on the gurney. Johnny put the stethoscope in his ears, reached forward to listen to her chest. He reached to remove her purse.

That's when all hell broke loose.

Not willing to release her death grip on her precious purse, Johnny tried to gently push it to one side. Having no success, he politely asked if he could place her purse on the bench beside him for a moment as he listened to her heart, while giving it a gentle tug.

The once docile and frail, 80-something year old woman began to spew forth a string of words that would have made a sailor blush, and insist to be taken home. And by the name she kept calling Johnny, this sweet little old lady was verbally insinuating that his parents had never been married upon his birth, and knew the terminology to imply that very thing.

Trying to calm the woman, John placed both hands on her shoulders to settle her down, leaving himself defenseless. Before he knew what happened, this sweet, 80 pound, five foot nothing woman started swinging her precious purse, connecting it, buckles and all, along with the stinky liquid that was dripping out of its' crevices, with Johnny's body on many different levels, especially when she found out she still wasn't being taken home. To make matters worse, she tried to get off the gurney, and unbuckle the belt holding her there. The fight was on.

"Dennis, OW! I Need- OUCH! OW! Some STOP THAT! help OW! Here! Mildred OW! Stop hitting OW! Me! OW! Dennis! Pull over OUCH! " Dennis, this OW! CRAP! OUCH! Isn't funny! OW! Pull Over!" The ambulance driver, who was fighting laughter, eventually pulled over. Squad 51, with a puzzled Roy driving, quickly pulled over, and opened the doors to see Johnny being pummeled with a yellow handbag.

"Mildred, OW! You have to OW! Stop that! I'm trying to OUCH! help you!"

Roy finally got ahold of the flailing old woman's arms, and Johnny grabbed the purse and flung it across the rig. It clunked heavily on the floor. Roy looked at Johnny, with his red welts on his face and arms from the purse buckles and his being doused with the stinky eau de cologne, and couldn't help but smirk. Mildred stopped struggling and laid her head back on the gurney. Covering the patient back up, Roy tightened the strap snugly, and patted Mildred comfortingly. Sweet little Mildred gave him a toothless smile.

"You're such a nice young man. I feel so silly for forgetting to take my pills. I'm usually so good about such things." Johnny's mouth dropped open – again. Roy moved to go back to the squad.

"Oh, no. No, no. I'LL take the squad. Oh, and Roy? Don't touch her purse!"

"Hey Johnny?" Johnny stopped and looked back at his partner.

"You smell purr-ty."

Roy snorted with laughter. Johnny glared at his partner, jumped out of the ambulance, slammed the door and stomped off to the squad.


	2. Chapter 2

Walking through the ER doors, heads began to turn in Johnny's direction. The strong aroma of the spilled "Eau de Cologne" clung to his clothing. He would have sworn at that point, if it were medically possible, that it had seeped into his skin. It was one of those days.

Roy was finishing up in the treatment room with their 'sweet' old patient, and John went to the nurse's station to wait for him, much to Dixie's dismay.

"Oh, John, we need to have a talk about your choice of after shave. Ooo!" She quickly covered her up her nose.

"Ha ha. Very funny. Our last patient had a huge bottle of this nasty stuff break in her purse in the back of the ambulance. I'll never get rid of this smell!" John began sniffing his own shirt and coughing. Patients and staff alike were walking by, sniffing the air, and covering their noses, picking up their pace to get away from the area quicker.

"Hey! It's not my fault! A patient spilled it on me!" John yelled after them, as if it mattered. Some glared back in his direction, as if to say, 'Ya... whatever, buddy!'

"Well, if it was in her purse, how in the world did it end up on you?" Dixie said, still holding her nose.

"Because she was beating him up with it at the time." Roy mentioned as he walked up behind Johnny, joining them. He wrinkled his forehead and his nose, glaring at his partner.

"Would you mind standing over there, you know, down wind?" Roy smirked and looked at Dixie. She couldn't help but chuckle at John's predicament.

"You're just a riot, Roy. You probably stink, too." Johnny shot back. Dixie leaned over and sniffed Roy.

"Actually, he doesn't. Just you."

Roy took two fingers and pushed at Johnny's chest to prod Johnny to stand back further. John took a couple steps back. Dixie waved him back further. John let out a big exasperated sigh, and walked a few more steps back.

"How could you possibly ride in the ambulance with her and not, not…"

"Stink? I don't know, she liked me. She didn't try to beat ME up." Roy went to get some coffee. Dixie looked down at her paperwork to hide her chuckling. Johnny evil-eyed his partner. Roy was re-stocking some supplies when John became distracted by a noise that was gaining in volume around the corner. His curiosity was piqued. With Roy distracted with the supply list, John decided to walk part way down the hall to see what was causing the ruckus.

All of a sudden, a large man broke away from the officer who had been trying to restrain him, and headed in Johnny's direction. He looked like he was at least 400 pounds, and had decided to make a grass hula skirt his fashion statement for the day. A nurse holding a syringe yelled for assistance, and, acting on instinct, Johnny stood in the man's way and placed his hands in front of him, thinking that it would stop this 'hula dancing' freight train.

Hearing the commotion, Roy and Dixie came around the corner, and saw an extremely large man, sporting a grass skirt, sitting on the tile floor. And if that wasn't odd enough, they noticed something more peculiar.

A pair of navy blue panted-legs stuck out limply from underneath the heavy set hula dancer. The grass skirted perpetrator was sitting squarely on the paramedics' chest. An officer and a nurse were trying with all their might to pull the large man up as he yelled.

"I got 'im! See? I Got 'im! He's right here! He tried to take me! That stinky alien tried to kidnap me, but I got 'im! He didn't get me! I Got 'im!" The enormous man was pumping his arms in the air with glee.

Roy and Dixie joined in the fray, and saw Johnny under the man, staring straight up at the ceiling. Dixie covered her mouth to keep from laughing. Roy had a smile he couldn't hide. The now medicated man was taken into a treatment room, and Roy knelt down beside his partner.

"Junior, you alright? Junior? Are you hurt?" Roy was reaching for his partner's arm.

"I'm fine. Jus'...jus' great." Johnny answered in a whispery, 'I have no breath' voice.

"Did you hit your head? Break anything?" Roy started to check his friend over. Johnny smacked his friends' hand away.

"Jus' get me up." John put his arm toward Roy's hand for Roy to help him. As Johnny stood, he teetered a bit, and Roy steadied him.

"You sure? Maybe we should have Brackett or somebody…"

"I'm okay! Jus' got plowed over by a bulldozer in a grass skirt is all!" Johnny rolled his neck and shoulders to get the kinks out. Ever so carefully and slowly Johnny walked down the hall. Roy and Dixie watched their defeated and weary friend walk through the automated doors, and head to the squad. Roy went back to the desk and grabbed the supplies from Dixie, who was still trying to stifle her laugh.

It was definitely one of those days.


	3. Chapter 3

Backing into the bay, Roy had his head leaning out the window, breathing big gulps of air. John jumped out of the squad and slammed the door. He leaned on the hood of the squad, still reeling from his rotten day. Hank walked out of his office, sniffed the air, tilting his head, trying to trace the aroma.

"What the heck is that smell? Roy? You guys run into a skunk on your last run?" Johnny looked up at his captain, wanting so badly to say something, but thought better of it. Just about that time, three curious crew members sauntered out of the kitchen, making rude comments about the smell in the bay…when the phantom caught wind of his pigeon.

"Holy crap, Gage! And I mean that literally! Did you roll in a pasture? Geez, go have Mikey hose you off in the parking lot! We don't deserve this kind of torture!" Chet began making exaggerated retching noises.

Still plugging his nose, Cap spoke up for his crew.

" I think that's quite enough, Kelly. I hate to say it pal, but you do need to hit the showers. Pronto." John dropped his head, and slipped away to the locker room. Roy shook his head, feeling bad for his partner. Stoker opened the back bay door to air out the place.

"What happened to John?" Asked Marco. The men retreated to the kitchen to finish their meal and Roy shared the whole sad story. A few minutes later, a cleaner more relaxed John entered the kitchen, ready to eat, as he hadn't eaten since he came on duty early that morning.

"Still charming the ladies, huh Gage?" Chet began picking on his favorite mark. John began filling his plate, trying to ignore him.

"You smell better. How do you feel?" Roy inquired as he poured his friend some milk.

M-okay. Jus' kinda hungry. Glad there's some left!" Johnny sat down and took a big fork full and shoved it in his mouth when the unthinkable happened. The tones blared, summoning the paramedics to an unknown rescue. John slammed his fist on the table in frustration, and took a huge swig of milk, and ran after his partner. Eating would have to wait – again.

It was still one of those days.

E*E*E*E*E

Rolling up to the address, John and Roy began pulling their equipment, both thinking the same thing. Both paramedics hated unknown rescues; both always had the unsettled feeling in their stomachs of what could be behind that closed door.

Knocking on the door, John impatiently shifted back and forth on his feet as Roy announced their arrival. After being told to enter, the men made their way into a heavily cluttered livingroom, with a loudly blaring TV drowning out their communication with their charge. He seemed oblivious to the men that were there to help him.

"Sir? SIR? My name is Johnny, and this is my partner, Roy. We're paramedics with the fire department. What seems to be the problem? Sir? Can you hear me?"

"Are yous guys them para-whatzits I seen on the television that helps people?" The balding, heavy-set gentleman asked, sprawled out in his well used recliner. He turned his focus back to the TV. He popped a few more cheese doodles in his mouth. The man was dressed in a much too small sleeveless undershirt and shorts. It was obvious his relationship with his shower had definitely become estranged.

The man leaned back in his chair and groaned, rubbing his belly.

"Are you having pain, sir?" Johnny inquired, palpating the man's rather large belly. The man didn't answer. He leaned over to see the TV past Johnny, who happened to be in the way. John and Roy exchanged confused glances as they continued their ministrations.

Johnny took the man's wrist and began to count. Roy attached the BP cuff, and put the stethoscope in his ears, and looked at Johnny with a questioning look. Johnny shrugged. Roy placed a hand on the man's belly.

"BP is one-ten over eighty, respiration's normal." Roy looked at Johnny.

"Pulse is sixty. Pupils are normal. Skin color is good."

"Sir? Sir! Are you hurt? Do you hurt anywhere? Did you fall?" Roy questioned.

Johnny sat back on his heels, and scratched his head. He placed his hands on his hips.

"Sir, are you in need of our assistance? Did you call us for help?" Johnny asked.

"A 'course I called ya. Ya help people dontya? Your them para-thing-a-ma-bobs aint ya?"

"Well, yes sir. Are you in pain?" Roy began to assemble the bio-phone.

The man again put his hand on his stomach. John and Roy exchanged looks.

"Is it your stomach bothering you, sir? Is that why you called us?" John again placed a hand on the man's enormous belly and began pressing carefully in different areas, but not really getting a reaction. The man belched rather loudly in John's face for his trouble. John grimaced at the smell.

"Does this hurt? What about here?" John got near the belly button area, and the man reacted.

"Here? Are you having pain here?" John looked at Roy, and began to raise the man's shirt. Roy spoke into the bio-phone to establish contact.

"Rampart, this is squad Fifty-One. Rampart base this is squad Fifty-One, how do you read?"

"Go ahead Fifty-One." Dr Early's voice came through loud and clear.

"Rampart, we have a male, approximately forty-five years of age, complaining of abdominal issues. Vitals are:

BP one-ten over eighty, pulse is sixty, respiration's seem to be normal at this time. Abdomen is soft, no guarding or rigidity or complaints of tenderness. Stand by." Roy set the receiver down.

"Sir, we need you to tell us about the pain. Where are you experiencing your pain?" John inquired.

The man never took his eyes off the TV, and grabbed another handful of his snacks. John and Roy looked at each other, waiting for their patient's response.

"Nah, no pain. Jus' lint." The man responded, matter-of-factly.

John and Roy froze. Johnny looked at Roy as his mouth fell open. Roy stared at Johnny in disbelief.

"I-I'm sorry. What did you say?" Roy asked.

"I said, I has lint. In my belly button. A big 'ole chunk. I need you ta git it. You gots somethin' in one a your boxes there ta fix that, dontcha?"

Roy's mouth fell open and matched his partner's. After a moment, Roy regained his composure to address the patient.

"Are you saying that you have something lodged in your, your...and you can't remove..."

Naw, I jus' know'd you is one a them para-do-hickies, and would git it for me." Johnny remained in his stunned state, and Roy had no words. After a few moments, Dr. Early interrupted their confused silence.

"Squad Fifty-One, status update?" After a few moments, Roy answered.

"Ah, Rampart, ah, Patient appears to be uh, fine, and um, able to treat the um, condition on his own. Fifty- One out." Roy quietly closed up the bio-phone.

Ah, sir? This isn't a medical issue. I'm sure you can take care of this on your own. My partner and I need to be on our way now. If you have a medical emergency in the future be sure to give us a call." Roy tactfully told the patient. The man shrugged and crammed a huge amount of cheese snacks into his mouth and went back to his TV.

Roy stood up and picked up the bio-phone. Johnny, still standing there with a look of 'you've-got-to-be-kidding-me' on his face, mouth still hanging open, received an elbow jab from his partner, Jostling him into closing his mouth and to stop staring at their "patient" in disbelief. Johnny helped gather their equipment and they headed out the door.

Sliding back into the squad, Johnny was still shaking his head and mumbling to himself.

"I didn't get to eat. I had to run out because of lint, Roy. It was LINT! belly button lint! I missed lunch because of lint. Belly! Button! Lint!"

Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes. Roy started the engine and pulled away from the curb. As he drove, He quietly reflected about sweet little old ladies, grass skirts, and belly button lint.


	4. Chapter 4

Roy stole a glance at his partner. He hadn't moved or opened his eyes since they left their last 'patient.' His head was resting against the door frame, with wind blowing through the open window, tussling his hair. He wasn't sure if he should offer words or reassurance that his day would get better, or just let his friend rest for a while. The poor guy had missed lunch, and dinner was quickly approaching. Roy was hoping that they would make it back to the station without incident, and Johnny would be able to get a hot meal and a restful shower. The beeping of their squad radio shattered any hopes of that happening. A groan from the passenger side of the vehicle told Roy that his partner wasn't asleep.

E*E*E*E*E

Kneeling at the side of his patient, John quickly went to work, assessing the situation. A hysterical woman pacing in their family room made it hard for Roy to gather any information.

"Ma'am, can you tell me what happened here? Ma'am? We need to be able to help you husband! Can you tell us what happened Please?" The woman hiccuped between sobs and began to tell Roy that she and her husband were getting ready to head into the kitchen to make dinner, when her husband began clutching his chest, and fell to the floor. Johnny was diligently taking vitals, when concern spread over his face.

"Roy! He stopped breathing! NO PULSE!" Johnny delivered a big thump to the man's chest, and then he began performing CPR as Roy prepared the defibrillator.

All of a sudden, the patient's eyes flew open, and he grabbed Johnny's arms and yelled, shoving Johnny off of him, landing John onto the carpeted floor on his butt.

"Hey, cut that out! That hurts!" Johnny and Roy's faces matched each other, as they sat dumb stuck, their mouths open. Not more than 10 seconds ago, this man had no pulse, and John had begun life-saving measures. Now this man had flung him off his chest, and was talking and acting normally.

Johnny scrambled back to his patient and reached for his wrist, and placed his hand on the man's belly, counting his respirations. Roy opened the bio-phone, and raised one of the doctors from Rampart. Johnny reported his findings to his partner, which were now, unbelievably normal.

"Yes, Rampart. Patient is now breathing on his own and has a normal pulse rate of 50. We are hooking the patient up to leads and transmitting – this will be lead 2, Rampart."

"I don't need no stinkin' wires. I'm perfectly fine. Put that stupid contraption away." Roy and Johnny exchanged glances. John eased the ear pieces free from his ears of his stethoscope.

"Listen, Mr. ah,…" Johnny tried to reason.

"Slater, Artie Slater. I'm jus' fine I tell ya." The obstinate man tried to remove the BP cuff. John tried to hold it in place as he talked.

"Mr. Slater. Not more than two minutes ago you had no pulse and no respiration. We are on that phone right there with a doctor at Rampart General Hospital, and we would like to have them check you out. It would be in your best interest."

"Listen to 'em, Artie. Let the man check you over." The nervous wife begged, kneeling by her husband.

"I'm tellin' ya, Francine, I'm FINE. I don't need NO cop guy or NO wires on me to tell me that!" Johnny huffed and looked at Roy. Roy asked Rampart to stand by.

"Mr. Slater. They just want to make sure that you're alright. Wouldn't you like to do that? If not for you, at least for you wife?" Roy reasoned.

"Please Artie, for me?" His wife pleaded. Artie Slater knew he was licked, and agreed. John put the leads on his patient. Both paramedics looked at the monitor in puzzlement. It was sinus rhythm. Perfect sinus rhythm. Dr. Brackett responded back to his paramedics.

"Squad Fifty-One, I'm reading sinus rhythm. Continue to monitor for an additional five minutes and send me a new set of vitals and another strip." Mr. Slater began to protest, and then grew very quiet. Johnny's face fell, and he looked at Roy again.

"V-FIB! No Respirations!" John began CPR again as Brackett confirmed what they were seeing on the monitor, telling them to shock their patient.

As Roy once again was at Johnny's side, who was in full CPR mode, he had the defibrillator paddles in hand. Artie Slater woke up again with a start, and pitched Johnny off of him like a toy. Johnny, being no match for the burly man and his animal strength, became airborne as he flew backwards into the white wicker shelf unit, housing Francine's prized potted mums and other various plants.

As the decorative pots teetered, they rocked and eventually fell from their precarious ledge, landing squarely and breaking on top of John Gage's head, giving him a lovely dirt 'hat,' accessorized beautifully with the three beautiful yellow mums standing at attention on top of John's head.

The rich, smelly, heavily fertilized potting soil trickled down onto his uniform shirt – not to mention down into his white T-shirt, and most likely his pants, socks and shoes. He sniffed the air, trying to place the odor that was assaulting his nose. He sat dazedly wondering what had just happened.

"I told you, CUT THAT OUT! That hurts, damn it!" Artie Slater sat up abruptly, rubbing his chest. Mrs. Slater leaned over and hugged her husband. Roy sat with his mouth agape. Dr. Brackett interrupted Roy's astonishment.

"Sinus rhythm, Fifty-One. Good work." Roy slowly brought the receiver up to his ear, never taking his eyes off their patient. He glanced over at his partner, who was now sporting a 'dirt' chapeau with a pretty flowers sticking gracefully out of the top, and tried to find a way to explain to Rampart what had just happened.

"Ya, ah, Rampart, we, ah didn't have to convert patient. He did it on his own. Patient is ah, alert and talking. Vitals are once again normal."

"Fifty-One, Patient needs to be transported for observation." Roy let the receiver slide from his ear, knowing what was coming next, knowing the patient had heard the doctor's request.

"I'm not going to no stinkin' hospital. This is crazy. I'm staying right here." Roy shook his head. Johnny was still sitting against the askew shelves, blinking the dirt away, wondering what to do next. He started to right himself, when Mrs. Slater yelled.

"No! Stop! Those are my prize winning Mums you're destroying! Let me get something to put them in before you wreck them! Please! DON'T! MOVE! I need to save my soil! It's our own special blend! Don't move a muscle!" Francine hurried into the kitchen and retrieved a bucket and tried to scope up the stinky soil, and carefully picked up her precious flowers like they were fine imported china.

"I do hope you haven't damaged them!" Francine whined. Johnny was still trying to figure out the putrid smell. Johnny watched as Mrs. Slater lovingly scooped the stinky mess off his uniform, smearing and grinding it into his last clean shirt. He could feel it sticking to him under his shirt, permanently branding the smell into his skin. The family cat started to take quite a liking to him, rubbing up against his arm. Why couldn't he figure out that horrible smell?

Roy informed Artie about the dangers and all the things that he was risking by not going to Rampart, and as he expected, was abruptly refused.

"Rampart, patient is refusing to be transported and any further treatment at this time." Brackett told Roy to inform the patient to contact his own doctor, which Roy did, and Roy had the patient sign the proper forms. Mrs. Slater helped her husband up, and assured the paramedics that she would have him checked with their doctor.

Johnny finally rose from his dirt pile, and helped Roy gather their equipment. Once in the yard, Roy took the equipment, as Johnny began shaking himself, trying to free himself of all remaining dirt, knowing that he wasn't going to succeed. He felt more of it settle in his socks and shoes. John gave his partner a sideways glance, knowing his partner was trying not to chuckle at his latest predicament. Roy slid into the squad, smirking at his partner's latest fiasco. Only Johnny.

Johnny opened the door and slid in. An interesting aroma followed him. Roy crinkled his nose.

"What is that? It smells like…like…fish!"

"It is, Roy. Fish guts to be exact. It's what they use to 'enrich' their 'special' soil. Stinkin' smelly fish guts, Roy." John waved his arms for effect. John rubbed his forehead.

It was never going to end. It was one of those days.

"How's your head? You got cracked pretty good with that flowerpot." Roy smiled in his friends' direction. John rubbed the top of his head and mouthed the word 'ouch' as he did. Roy made a mental note to check it after John had a chance to shower when they got back.

"A couple of aspirin and a hot shower and I'll be fine." John slammed the door, regretting it after he did. He leaned his head back and sighed. He just had to hang in there a little longer. The tally was rising of things adding to Johnny's bad day. He kept thinking about that hot shower and a plate of hot food. Heck, a cold sandwich would be fine too. They would be back at the station in 15 minutes and he could kick back and take a few minutes for himself. Just a few minutes. That's all he needed. Just a few quiet, uninterrupted, Chet-free, undisturbed…

"_BEEP…BEEP…BEEP! SQUAD 51, WHAT IS YOUR STATUS?!"_


	5. Chapter 5

A completely drained John Gage covered his dirty, smelly face with both hands, dragging them downward in tired exhaustion. He looked at Roy with pleading in his eyes, but he knew what he needed to do. He reached for the microphone, knowing it was their duty. Roy shook his head at his weary partner.

"Squad 51 clear, leaving scene." He held his breath. Maybe it was just an inquiry? Maybe Sam just wanted to say hello and wish them safe travels on their way back to the station for a shower and a hot meal? Yeah, sure.

A string of orchestrated tones proceeded out of the radio, sending them to a structure fire with another station. Grabbing his helmet, John managed to conk himself in the eye with the rim, and Roy pretended politely not to notice. Johnny tried to look on the bright side – at least the smoke smell would take care of the fish smell, or, with his luck, they would mingle and he would smell like...smoked fish…?

The 'big' structure fire turned out to be an elderly couples' attempt to make a flambé dessert with extra brandy, and they had managed to set their kitchen curtains on fire in the process. As John attempted to move the dessert, he ended up tripping over the rug, and landed flatly in the confection, scattering the couples creation haphazardly around their kitchen, and on himself. He now added to his growing collection of smells: Dirt, fish guts, smoke, apricot brandy, and sticky, burnt frosting. It made it even better that he had his turnout coat open at the time, fully exposing his last uniform shirt and pants to the gooey mess.

Great, just great.

He seriously thought about just having Chet hose him off in the old couples' driveway, but he knew Chet would enjoy that w-a-y too much. He carefully removed his turnout coat, hoping that most of the smell would leave with it. No such luck.

Little did he realize, however, that once frosting hardens, it can become quite hard to deal with, especially when it is in ones' hair. Poor Johnny had random spikes of white sticking up all over his head, not to mention smears of frosting, and soot smears of black haphazardly cast on his face. A very noticeable fact – especially if your name is Chet Kelly.

"Hey, Johnny baby, nice look. Didn't know you joined a rock band! Or... are you doin' a rain dance later?" Chet leaned against the engine holding his gut laughing. John had no idea about his appearance. Marco tried not to snicker, but he couldn't help it. Even Mike Stoker squeaked out a grin.

"What the heck are you babbling about, Kelly?" John asked wearily. He stowed his gear and headed for the squad. Roy stood with his mouth open, but had no words for the way his partner looked. He just thought he had better get him back to the station as quickly as he could.

As John reached for the door of the squad, he caught a glimpse of an alien-like creature peering back at him from the mirror on the door. This creature had wild hair, sticking up in all directions in pointed peeks, and had chalky white smudges, not to be out done by the dark gray, black smudges smeared on his face. His shirt was all disheveled, and still caked with dirt. Gracefully caressing the dirt and grime from his previous runs, were now delicate swirls of white frosting and cake, and streaks of dried burnt brandy. He wasn't sure, but he could swear he saw fish guts, too. Or was it a swirl in the shape of a fish? Heck, he didn't know. Johnny squinted at some dirt around his eye... He wasn't sure if it actually was dirt, or a black eye that was beginning to form from his helmet 'mishap' on his way to this run.

A loud sigh could be heard from the tired paramedic. A look of utter defeat could be read in John's demeanor. His shoulders slumped. His head dropped. His half smile disappeared. He stood frozen in place, wondering what else could possibly go wrong. Instead of getting into the squad, John sat back on the curb, chin on his palm, and sat facing the passenger door, not having the energy to open it, climb in, and go back to the station. Captain Stanley took notice of his down and out paramedic, and took his partner aside.

"Roy, is he alright?" He pulled his senior paramedic by the elbow out of earshot.

"I don't know Cap. He's had a really rough day. Goofy patients, he missed lunch, and now it's past dinner. He's had a terrible run of bad luck. He's really exhausted. He could use a break." Both men looked over at John.

"I'm gonna check with dispatch and see if I can get you guys stood down for an hour or so." Hank headed to the engine to get on the radio. Roy made his way to his partner, getting a bit concerned himself.

Noticing the paramedic's helmets laying on the grass, Chet decided to scoop them up. He headed around to the drivers' side of the squad to put them in their proper place. Chet scooted through to the passenger side of the squad to hang the second helmet.

After a few positive words from his partner, Johnny decided to hoist himself up from the curb and head back to the station. He hoped with his entire being that Cap could get them stood down for an hour. He could get his long awaited shower and something to eat. As John mustered his energy, he leaned forward to push himself up from the curb.

Then, it happened.

Chet decided it would be quicker to exit from the passenger side rather than go back out the way he came. With unabated energy, Chet threw open the passenger side door at the same time John leaned forward to stand up.

It could be heard up and down the block – the sound of the metal door hitting Johnny squarely in the head, knocking him back about four feet. All of his crew mates froze in place, not believing what they had just seen or heard.

A dent in the identical shape of Johnny's head now adorned the squad's passenger door.

Johnny lay spread eagle in the grass, still and unmoving.


	6. Chapter 6

The A shift of Station 51 stayed frozen in their positions. Roy was the first one to move to his friends' side, still not believing what he just witnessed.

A chorus of unified voices rang out at the same time, scolding Chet's actions:

"Chet, what the Heck?"

"KELLY, YOU TWIT!"

"Madre Dios!"

Roy was too occupied with John to deal with Chet. He began his ministrations, watching the goose egg on Johnny's head increase in size and color before his very eyes. Chet just sat on the passenger seat of the squad, dumfounded, thinking the worst.

As Roy began taking care of his partner, John began to stir, eyes closed, mumbling incoherently.

"P-p-purrrse…c-can't touch the p-purse…f-flowers…so puurrrtttyy…lint…in m-my b-belly b-button…"

"Johnny? Can you hear me? Com'on. Open your eyes. Com'on, Junior. Talk to me." Roy tried to get Johnny to wake up. Mike had retrieved the equipment and had opened a line to Rampart.

"C-cake…c-cake go b-boom!" Johnny continued to babble with his eyes closed. Roy took his vitals, and started the ordered IV. Once loaded into the ambulance, Captain Stanley ordered Chet to drive the squad to Rampart.

E*E*E*E*E

The change in direction let Roy know that they were backing into Rampart. As the driver opened the back door, Roy helped unload the gurney that held his disheveled partner. Although not fully conscious, Johnny was murmuring about the terrible day he had been having.

As his gurney was wheeled down the hall, the very sight of his appearance caused the staff to stop dead in their tracks and stare at poor Johnny. Dixie was having none of it, ordering them back to their assigned duties, or offering to find them something to do. Feeling defensive of his friend, Roy pulled the blanket up tighter around his partner's shoulders. As they disappeared into room 3, Dr. Brackett stood frozen in place, Mouth agape.

"Good God, Roy! What happened to him?!"

Dixie silently got to work and began taking care of her favorite paramedic. Roy let out an exasperated breath, and told of the days' entire horrible tale, while Johnny moaned groggily in the background. When he got to the part about the squad's door, a touch of pent up emotion tinged Roy's voice. Dixie took his arm, and escorted him to the lounge for a much needed cup of coffee.

Roy plunked wearily into the plastic chair. Dixie handed him a cup of old, strong coffee. He set it on the table without sampling it. It may have been just 'one of those days', but it definitely needed it to end. Especially for his best friend. enough was enough.

E*E*E*E*E

The fogginess began to lift from his mind. He cracked open one eye; then the other. The dull pounding in his head told him that something had happened, and yet, his mind was jumbled enough to make him think that all the events of the day couldn't have possibly transpired. He couldn't figure out why he had such strange visions swirling in his brain.

Little old ladies beating up aliens with their purses...or was it aliens setting cakes on fire? Or was it a little old lady had the fish guts in her purse and the alien had set fire to the...wait. The hula dancer was wearing a mum plant hat, and started eating cake. No, no, no... That wasn't it. He closed his eyes again. The thumping intensified.

Long, gentle fingers encircled his wrist, and the smell of soft, fresh flowers wafted toward his nose, and he gladly breathed it in. He let his eyes slowly open, afraid to interrupt this welcomed dream, just in case it truly was one.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Gage?" A soft, sweet voice matched the beautiful brown eyes that peered into his. He tried to focus on the name plate. Although he saw two, he didn't care. Her gentle smile calmed his soul and his mind.

"My name is Kate, and I'm your nurse this evening. Don't worry, you are at Rampart. You'll being staying with us tonight. You've got a mild concussion, and some minor burns, but you're going to be just fine. Are you in any pain?" John couldn't take his eyes off her. He had to be dreaming. She placed a straw to his lips and he took a sip. Her smile alone was medicine to his injured spirit.

"Better, Mr. Gage? Should I see about some stronger meds for you?" Her smile was all the medicating he needed. He hadn't realized he had been squeezing her hand. He didn't want to let go.

"No. m-okay. And…It's John. Th-thank you. Kate." John's crooked smile melted her, too. She squeezed his hand in return. She straightened his bedding and his pillow, and adjusted his IV's. As they locked eyes again, she brushed his hair away from his bruise. John flinched, squeezing his eyes shut. He opened them again, slowly, afraid he had dreamed her into existence. He hadn't. Kate was still there, gazing into his eyes with concern, still holding his hand in comfort. They smiled at each other at the same time.

"I'm so sorry, Mr... ah, John. You have an anxious friend waiting to see you. I'm going to let the doctor know that you are awake, and let you have time with your friend. I'll be back soon." She squeezed his hand in reassurance. Another soft wafting of wildflowers drifted toward him. John relaxed and settled into his pillow. Kate turned as she left and smiled at her new favorite patient.

A night at Rampart? He could handle it…this time. His luck was about to change.

He glanced at the clock. It was past midnight…it was no longer one of THOSE days.

It was a NEW day.


End file.
